


come out and play

by Utopiste



Series: "coven" is just a fancy word for gay witch sorority [7]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Light Masochism, Mind Control, Orgasm Control, dubious everything, mind control kink, sex in inappropriate places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 09:10:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16910142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Utopiste/pseuds/Utopiste
Summary: Prompt:It stemmed from hatred between the two, making each other do horrible acts through concilium. As they continued the game though, things changed and Zoe doesn’t know if what’s happening now is any better. She finds she doesn’t really care if it isn’t.





	come out and play

**Author's Note:**

> whoops this ended up being way longer and way kinkier than expected 
> 
> based on the prompt: _it stemmed from hatred between the two, making each other do horrible acts through concilium. as they continued the game though, things changed and zoe doesn’t know if what’s happening now is any better. she finds she doesn’t really care if it isn’t._ absolutely loved writing this!!! thank you so much!!!! you made me make them fuck!!!!!
> 
> set during coven after madison kills misty
> 
> tw: dubious consent + use of mind control

It begins one day when Madison is talking about - something or another - how Kyle is the human equivalent of a dog ( _loyal, stupid, and_ really _likes licking people, doesn’t he_ ) or how Cordelia is literally too gay to function or another offensive, cruel comment about someone Zoe cares about. She tries to be the bigger person, she really does, but Madison is not stopping, yammering about one subject or another in an endless string of obscenities, and it’s so much.

Zoe snaps.

“Close your fucking mouth,” she says, and at first she thinks it’s the unusual swearing that shocks Madison into complying. “Oh my god Madison, you have been talking nonstop for forty-three minutes, do you just get off listening to yourself? Don’t you have anything nice to say about anyone?”

The other girl stares at her and stays silent and Zoe doesn’t understand because the only time Madison has been quiet for so long, she was a rotting addition to Spalding’s doll collection. Zoe keeps going and going about Madison being so lonely she is complaining about her shitty life to someone she can’t stand to stay in a room with and how pathetic of her, really, until her own throat feels raw with all the shouting and Cordelia is peering a concerned eye into the room. (Not like she’ll do anything, Zoe thinks bitterly, not like she will care, with her precious Misty Day gone. Madison is a bitch but she has a point. All hail the headmaster.)

It is only after she stormed out of the room that she realizes what she did, when her bones are relieved from a pressure she doesn’t have the words to describe. She tries, nonsensically, thinks it is sour like lemon and thick like a hand around her throat and scorching like frost on her skin. She knows it is a spell, one she doesn’t understand yet, stops in front of a mirror and stares at her own eyes surprised they haven’t gotten darker. Fiona Goode is standing in a corner of the corridor, always where she needs to be, always where people do not want her, cigarette in hand, smirking, _my my my, little witch all grown up, I didn’t think you had it in you._

It was the _Concilium_ , of course. Zoe doesn’t need to read her spell books to know it: it's infamous, cold-blooded, a sinuous sort of magic that seems so fitting for her, with her magic that murders the boys who love her.

Of course, Madison retaliates - Zoe wouldn’t expect any less - then Zoe herself is too tired to move from the living room to the kitchen get water and asks her to go _fetch_ , and they just- don’t stop.

 

***

 

The game goes on. Madison has always found ways of getting under her skin: this is not so different, only more literally so.

 

***

 

It stems from hatred between the two of them, it really does - making themselves do horrible acts through Concilium, hurting each other for fun or revenge or something else entirely - and Zoe doesn’t know when it all turns into whatever the fuck they are playing now. Then again, maybe it is all in her head.

“Zoe?” Madison says. “I need something to put out my cigarette on.”

Zoe whips around, ready to tell her to go fuck herself, but Madison’s eyes flash dangerously in that telltale way of hers. Zoe knows that look now, and before she realizes what she is doing, she has already walked up in front of the other girl, offering her open hand, dazed and eager and malleable.

Her own magic strains against Madison’s like a caged bird, but however hard she tries, she can feel Madison in the most intimate parts of her mind, stroking her into obedience, slipping into her, taking control. Madison pushes her again and again until Zoe stops fighting. She is spellbound and pliant under Madison's grasp and for a second it feels so good to be dutiful. The blazing cigarette butt barely touches skin when Zoe’s daze breaks and she tugs back her hand. She cries out, tells the other girl she’s a crazy bitch and a sociopath, but Madison just smirks and pulls out another cigarette again.

Zoe does what is best and storms out of the living room, goes to their bathroom and slams the door, ignoring Kyle sitting on her bed with his hopeful puppy eyes. She runs cold water along her palm until it stings less. When she brushes her thumb against the red blister, a prickle of pain runs through her arm. Her finger presses harder against it and she gasps at the hurt. She doesn’t stop.

In her head she can imagine Madison smirking the way she did a few seconds ago, telling her _fuck, you’re so wet_.

Kyle is in the other room whispering along with his notecards, incoherent strings of half-intelligible words, the chandelier above her flickers on and off ominously, and anyone could come in to look for her to comfort an upset student and find Kyle. This is about the least sexy place in the world for her right now. And even then, if what she wanted was sex, there is a boy is in the next room, a delicious dead boy who has nothing to fear from her, could help out even. Instead she pushes her injured hand against her stomach and pushes downwards.

 

***

 

When she comes, her hand is gripping the sink desperately as she traces frantic desperate circles around herself, and she bites her lip bloody trying not to cry out Madison’s name.

 

***

 

It takes a month before Madison catches on. That day, Zoe is reading in between the coven’s dusty bookshelves - she is the only one to frequent the library anyway, or it wouldn’t smell so stale all the time - when the other girl strides in. This is probably the first time Zoe has ever seen Madison with a book less than a feet away from her, and she’s surprised she hasn’t burst into some allergic reaction. She tells her so, and Madison bites back, and before Zoe can even get a grip on herself books are flying towards Madison in a vortex of angry bindings and pesky pages.

It takes Madison’s magic forcing its way inside her to stop her own from acting out, and even then Zoe stays perfectly still with the taste of blood and rage on her tongue.

“You psycho,” Madison snarls. “What happened to your whole killing is bad, human are friends, not food shtick?”

“One, you’re already dead. Two, you barely count as human.”

“Actually, that’s fair,” Madison says, but even then her grip tightens ever so slightly on Zoe’s body.

She doesn’t whimper. She _doesn’t._  It’s not like she actually makes any sound apart from- it’s- the rejoicing in her head, maybe, pressing back against Madison’s hold like a purring cat- it’s not- she doesn’t _whimper,_ per say. It is just hard to conceal anything from someone whose soul is literally inside yours.

A surprised expression flickers on Madison’s face, and suddenly she lets go of Zoe so smoothly. Before Zoe can say anything she is back again and she feels so tightly wound inside her head, more than she has ever tried to.

“Oh my god, you like this, don’t you?” Madison asks, a glitter of something Zoe can’t quite pinpoint in her dark eyes.

 _Yes, please._ “No.”

“You do,” Madison says, no longer a question. “It gets you wet. Knowing I can make you do anything. Knowing you’re at my mercy.”

Zoe thinks of Madison’s mind overpowering her own, slipping into her, filling her up with herself, then immediately chastises herself for it before she realizes- “ _Stop putting thoughts into my head,_ ” she snaps.

Madison stalks closer to her like Zoe is prey, like she is about to bounce but is glad for now to enjoy the chase. “You liar. With all the time you spend on these dusty spellbooks - a know-it-all like you knows Concilium doesn’t work like that.”

“You’re the next Supreme,” Zoe protests. “Your magic doesn’t work like ours.”

“Bullshit.”

She backs herself against the wall and hates how she is not doing it to put more distance between her and Madison - hates noticing the way the other girl’s hips sway as she approaches, the curve of her lips as she smirks, her teeth gleaming, ravenous. Zoe puts her hands above her head, except she is not really the one who makes that choice, a presence tugging her, pressing her.

Madison is standing right next to her, so close she could kiss her, but she doesn’t. She just looks at her in that way Zoe has learned how to associate with her, intimately, like she doesn’t know if she wants to punch her or fuck her. Madison grins and Zoe expects she found a way for both of these options to melt into each other.

“I think we can still have fun with this,” Madison says, and Zoe can already feel her own hand moving of its own accord.

“What do you mean?”

Madison licks her lips before she says, “Touch yourself.”

She should keep up the pretense, try to pretend she doesn’t want this, doesn’t want to be pinned against the wall with Madison smirking against her skin, she really should, probably. But then again, if she does, Madison might stop, and that’s definitely not a risk worth taking to save her dignity. In fact, Zoe finds having a dignity to be really overrated right now. Not when Madison leans very close to her and whispers to her exactly how roughly she needs to press against her clit, breath hot against the shell of her ear, fingers gripping her other hip so hard it will bruise.

Zoe bites down on her bruised lip trying not to moan, and there’s a fresh sting when nails dig harder onto her lower back, and-

“Stop trying so fucking hard to be quiet,” Madison sneers. Zoe can only start panting desperately, pleading and begging and arching her back, repeating Madison’s name like an incantation, which it might as well be - she remembers this verse she read in high school, _thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged_ \- but she can only say _touch me touch me please please kiss me_.

Madison surges forward to press her lips against hers, and when she kisses her it’s a threat and a salvation all at once. She moves against her in rough, hectic pushes that make Zoe’s blood rush in her cheeks and the path of her hand stutter.

Then other hands than her own slip under her heavy dress - _quit it, let me_ \- pick up the pace, fuck into her - _don’t come don’t come I swear to god if you come I’ll drop this chandelier on your head_ \- Zoe feels herself crying out more than she hears it, feels her legs spreading when Madison orders her to, rising around the other girl’s hips.

She has begged her throat raw when Madison looks at her in the eyes, raises her chin with a finger so she can only gaze at her, all flushed cheeks and red spit-wet lips and teeth in her smile when she says, “Now you can.”

Her face is engraved in Zoe’s mind as she comes, harder than she ever did, crashing against her, around her, fingers digging into blonde hair and tugging desperately. She hides her face into that same hair when she is done, curled against Madison’s shoulder.

Madison wipes her hands on her dress before she runs them against the nape of Zoe’s neck in long, slow, soothing movements that quiet her whimpers. Her heart feels too light and fluttery to fit behind her ribs. They stay like this for a while, catching their breath. In a few minutes, that moment is going to burst - something catastrophic or apocalyptic no doubt will happen - but for now, Zoe takes all the time she can get.

When she steps back from Madison, the blonde is smiling more earnestly than Zoe has ever seen her do, and it takes her breath away. Of course, Madison stops as soon as she catches the other girl watching, and Zoe knows she will open her mouth and say something terrible and mean and _Madison,_  she knows that, but this right there, this doesn’t feel like part of the game.

Zoe doesn’t know if what is happening right now is any better than whatever they used to play at before. But she kisses the malice out of Madison and finds she doesn’t care very much.


End file.
